A Tranquil Diversion
by Random-Battlecry
Summary: Alice returns briefly to Wonderland, armed only with adult sensibilities. Its been a long time. Very little has changed. Oneshot, with the Mad Hatter.


**A/N: One shot. Not actually a lot of point for this. One of my novels is a sequel to Alice in Wonderland, and if people are interested in reading it they can e-mail me, (though hopefully it will shortly be available at bookstores as well.) This is for Sean, who looks like the Hatter, except one who's lost his hat and has gotten entirely too sheepish about it.**

**A Tranquil Diversion**

It was quite strange. She closed her eyes, and when they opened again she found herself there; apparently bypassing the falling sensation that had characterized her first visit, and completely skipping the mental confusion that accompanied her second, she was simply here, in Wonderland, alive and well.

A few glances around her served to ascertain that she was not in a place she'd been in before; dull memories seeped up from the depths of her mind and told her that the grass was a little greener, the sky a little bluer, everything a little realer here than it had been when she was a little girl— that wonderful place seemed to exist mainly in her mind, now, for she found that the surrealism of Wonderland had been replaced with a more ordinary beauty, and things no longer shone dizzily in her sight, but merely drew her eye further in by their show of commonplace intricacy. She couldn't help but regret it.

It had been so long! And she had no true idea of why she was here. Certainly, she had thought of her childhood adventures now and again, and the memories, nearly empty of noise, had merely echoed with the warm voice of a man old enough to be her father, spinning the words out for her, an intricate web of delightful deception. He'd had the voice of authority, and she'd never thought not to believe.

"Well," she said to herself determinedly, "if I am not where I was once, where am I? I must find this out." So saying, she began to poke and prod the landscape as though looking for a secret door. (Indeed, in her past, she had many dealings with secret doors.) "It looks a bit familiar— a normal version of an abnormal place. I believe, if I could step back through the looking glass and take a peep into my memories, this would be the place where I met the Dormouse, and the March Hare, and the Mad—"

"Hatter," supplied the voice behind her. "Quite mad, thank you, and in no need of reminding of my own name. Honestly! You'd think I was forgetful instead of insane."

She turned round immediately, and couldn't help a genuinely happy smile from breaking over her face. It was indeed the Mad Hatter, his large nose protruding from his small face, chin sliding down into his cockeyed collar, lips pursed in a permanent pout of ill-considered disapproval. His hat tipped precariously over one eye, but was adequately balanced on the stand-up rims of his ears; he blinked at her either imperiously or near-sightedly; possibly both. Alice tipped her head to one side and regarded him, still with that fond smile on her face.

"You look shorter," she said. His eyes widened.

"Good lord, child! You mean to tell me I've been shrinking all this time you were away! Well— yes, look at you! Too tall, too tall! Too tall by far; you've been stretching yourself far, far past your limit. You must shrink immediately or there will be difficulties fitting you into heaven." He leaned back slightly to take her in; full grown as Alice was now, she saw that he was rather a small man, slightly built, a joggle-headed wisp of a man who had no more clear idea of what was going on than she had. "Rather limited space, you know. They like their inductees to be _compact_."

"Nonsense," said Alice, the smile leaving her and instantly replaced with a familiar look of patience, brows knotted in thought, one hand on her hips and the other weaving expressively through the air. "It is heaven, you know— it spans the vastness of the universe! There could never be too little room."

"Too _little_, my dear child! Too _little_ is not the difficulty— the difficulty is that you are too_ big_. Perhaps I should explain myself more clearly." His eyes flared, glared, yellow spots of internal flame eating up the heretofore-friendly blue. "Sit down so I can see over your head. There are much more interesting things going on somewhere over your left shoulder, and you are blocking my view."

She sat down obediently, and he stalked around her, one hand snaking out to twist a finger in her hair. She smiled at the contact initially, then frowned when he gave it a sharp tug.

"Ow!"

"Ha!" he said in response, and she found him standing once more in front of her. He looked down at her for a moment, then fell swiftly to his knees. "I must patch the knees of my trousers," he remarked conversationally. "They are in for a hard winter; the wear and tear is something truly awful."

She tipped her head to one side. "Why, what is it you've been doing?"

"Proposing," he replied promptly. "Proposing all day long to my sweet Mabel— she's turned me down a hundred times, and a hundred times I promptly turn myself up again. She's more comfortable with me at a low flame— I prefer to boil."

Alice smiled, and Alice laughed, and Alice felt a small twinge of jealousy somewhere in her middle. "I don't suppose you can keep proposing too many times," she said. "Mabel is likely to get tired of it soon, and simply ignore you, and then where would you be?"

"In a state of confusion," he said, "as normal—" and his smile was sweet and bright and sudden, like a match in a dim room, and swift to disappear, like a flame put out before you've clearly seen your way forward. "It is quite comfortable here, in Confusion," he said, "I am _so_ glad you decided to visit."

Alice hugged her knees with her arms; she turned her gaze down towards the grass and sighed contemplatively. "I don't know what I'm doing here. That is the story of my life, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know," said the Hatter, "you've never told me."

"I am telling you now."

"_Are _you!" he replied, eyes opening wide again and nostrils flaring wildly. "I am most extremely interested to hear it! What part of your narrative should I listen to? Could you perhaps write it down? I am likely to go to sleep."

"Please don't," she beseeched him. "I am terribly confused, and I would like some company."

Once again the smile, warm and unexpected. "Dear child," he said, "if you're in Confusion, you will always have company. Tell me, miss, what occurs more often in your life— disillusionment, or complacency?"

"Complacency," she replied after a moment's thought.

"Witch!" he accused.

"How so?"

"If one is complacent, one is too happy. If one is too happy, one is doing something right. If one is doing something right, one is doing something that others don't know to do. If one is doing something that others don't know to do, one is finding this information out somehow, and one is a witch by default, because the position of God is already fulfilled."

She thought for a long moment; then said, "I am not sure I like your logic."

"Admirably spoken," the Hatter retorted sharply, "but my logic does not much like you."

They were quiet for a moment then, and watched each other warily as though the other would bite. Alice took in the planes of his face, the weak lines of his chin, his extraordinary eyes, and deemed him, perhaps not handsome, but peculiarly presentable and very attractive to look at. The Hatter was thinking of pineapples.

"Give me your hand," he demanded abruptly, "and I will tell you your fortune."

Alice blinked, startled out of her stupor— "My fortune?" she repeated.

"Your hand, girl!" the Hatter said sternly, and she obliged, biting back laughter as his fingertips danced like butterflies over her palm.

"I am not such a girl any longer," she said, "and that tickles."

"Your pulse is noticeably quickened," said the Hatter acidly. "I should fear for my heart if I were you."

"I do," said Alice quietly.

"Your lay lines describe a life of— _complacency_," and he bit the line out almost angrily. "Your love lines prescribe a life of men with large feet and very large shoes in which to put them. Your life line gets shorter with each passing second, your hot line is what you call when you have an emergency, and your beeline has been made up specifically for this paragraph. You will fall in love with a man in a large hat, and he will glare at you quite meaningfully," said the Hatter, glaring at her meaningfully.

"That is quite a meaningful glare," agreed Alice, "but the meaning escapes me, I'm afraid."

"Everything escapes you," he said harshly. "You should stop keeping things so trapped up; learn to let them stay with you on their own. If you give your chickens no chance to fly the coop, you are counting them before they're hatched and that is nearly as stupid as putting them all in one basket, especially considering that baskets are even easier to escape than coops."

"You confuse me," she said softly.

In answer he spread his arms out to indicate the land that surrounded them, and in answer to that she wrapped one hand in his cravat and pulled him close, exercising a little-known art in Wonderland— that of the kiss. There was no empty space between his lips and hers that was not filled up with the heat of their breath, and when she let go he looked quite content.

"You do not confuse _me_," he said, "dear lady. You quite astound me— yes, I am _quite_ astounded indeed."

"Perhaps I wasn't brought here for a reason after all," she said, pondering. "Enjoyment isn't a reason— it's a category all of its own."

"Or," said the Hatter, "perhaps you aren't here at all, and you merely dreamt this entire scenario. A comforting thought," he went on, getting to his feet, "in light of the fact that your scent surrounds me, your eyes astound me," he added, walking away, "your lips caressed me, your spirit threw me," his voice began to soften as he went further, "your arms embraced me, your voice intoxicated me, your mind erased me, your husband awaits you—" and finally disappeared.

"I wonder—" said Alice thoughtfully, and had the comfort of knowing that there was no better place for it. But the moon had risen high, shifting around to glance down at her with a watering eye, and the landscape stilled from the normal activities of everyday life. Before her a lake shimmered like glass, yet reflected nothing. If she was never to come back, perhaps it was for the best.

She wished she had held on a little longer.


End file.
